


end your night with me

by temerity (forsanethaec)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Barebacking, Birthday Sex, Blowjobs, M/M, Plot What Plot, birthday feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2272248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forsanethaec/pseuds/temerity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One thing leads to another at Niall's early birthday in London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	end your night with me

**Author's Note:**

> aka, louis went to niall's LIC birthday party and I DIED FOREVER. this is a ~let's pretend eleanor doesn't exist~ fic. i'm not proud of what i have become. title is from 'echoes of silence' by the weeknd. also, i wrote like half of this with a cat on my lap, so pls excuse any typos.

Louis catches Niall in the bathroom at a quarter past one, smiling at his own flushed face in the mirror. 

“How’s your night, Nialler?” 

Niall turns in slow surprise, like he’s suspended in jelly. “Tommo, mate! What’re you doing in here?”

“Stalking you.” Louis says it like it’s a joke, despite having waited until he saw Niall go in the loo to follow him, looking for a moment alone. He sticks his hands under the tap and looks at Niall grinning at him in their reflection. “You having a good time?”

“The best,” Niall says. “The best time. Where’ve you been, then? Hardly seen you all night.” 

“We did that shot earlier,” Louis points out. “And that other shot, later. The birthday-flavored one.” 

Niall laughs his cackling laugh. “Vanilla or something. Yeah, I know.”

“But I don’t want to cramp your style too much.” Louis waves his hand expansively, sending an arc of water droplets across the mirror and the edge of the sinks. “It’s all your friends here. LIC and all. I’m just – you know.” He doesn’t know, in fact, what he is in this group. Niall’s bandmate, at a start. But he’s felt stupidly out of place since the moment Niall first let him alone after he walked in, which is why he’s now drunker than he’d planned to be, considering he’s got to go to Glasgow first thing in the morning. 

Niall scoffs. “They’re your friends, too.”

Louis just shrugs, smiling a low curving smile at him in the mirror. Niall’s eyes are locked on him like drunk, happy magnets, following him as he moves to dry his hands. 

“I’m glad you came out,” Niall says finally. “Wouldn’t have been the same without you. Or one of you, at least.” 

“Yes,” Louis says, “well, the other three say hello, of course. Miss you terribly. Not like we’re spending every other fucking waking moment together right now, anyway.”

It makes Niall laugh again, and then they’re just standing there, waiting for someone to end the conversation. 

“So,” Louis says fitfully into the silence as it stretches, “well. I actually followed you in here like a creepy weirdo ‘cause I didn’t want to wind up in all the photos tomorrow, ‘cause – it’s your night, but.” He clears his throat. He hadn’t meant to make a thing of it like this, but that ship’s clearly sailed. “Just felt like I ought to give you, um, a birthday hug, or summat. So. Here I am.”

“So fuckin’ private,” Niall says, smirking. “Right, well. Bring it in.” He spreads his arms like a challenge, which makes Louis laugh.

“You’re drunk,” he says, stepping into Niall’s space. He wraps his arms around him, one over his shoulder and one under his opposite arm, tucks his nose into Niall’s neck and closes his eyes. “Happy birthday, mate,” he says. “Welcome to the over-21 club.” 

Niall doesn’t have any witty riposte for that; he’s just breathing into Louis’ shoulder, their bodies fit together in a close, slim line. Niall smells warm and soft, like the end of the night. His cologne’s worn down into a mix of clean sweat and liquor and other people. Louis takes a breath and finds it trembles in his throat just a little, and he tries not to think about why.

Niall’s hand slips along Louis’ side when Louis draws back, keeping him close. Louis’ hand stays on Niall’s neck, because it’d be more awkward to extricate himself than it is to keep it there. 

“Hey,” Niall murmurs. His breath is a close, alcoholic blush, almost against Louis’ mouth, and then just as Louis realizes what’s happening Niall’s moving in, one uncertain inch and then another, fingers curling against Louis’ ribs. And then they’re kissing. 

The motion is pretty seamless for something so apparently unplanned. Louis is frozen against Niall for one breathless second before he starts to kiss back. He slides his fingers into Niall’s hair and takes control of Niall’s aimless wet mouth on instinct, holding him close and tight, licking him open and then sucking his lower lip into his mouth, biting it, huffing out a breath through his nose. 

It’s a hot, good kiss, with Niall drunk and pliant against him, a little whine trembling in the back of his throat, and Louis is kissing him like his brain is disconnected from his mouth, his eyes squeezed shut. 

Then he tears himself away. Niall follows him forward for half a second, mouth open and kissed-red, his eyes round and shining. Louis actually wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, breathing hard. His fingers find the edge of the sink, clutching, trying to ground himself. 

“Sorry,” Niall breathes. His arms are at his sides. He looks completely lost. 

“No,” Louis says. “Um. That was – I shouldn’t have, uh.” He’s trying very hard to collect himself, slow down his breathing, put himself back together while Niall the drunk birthday boy stands there staring with his mussed hair and his flushed cheeks and his jumper. He looks fucking edible. Louis wants to lay him down and take him apart so slowly, with his tongue, his hands, until Niall’s sobbing, begging for it. He hadn’t known it was in there, all that want. “Fuck,” he whispers. 

“I’ll go,” Niall says. He coughs. “I mean, out, first.” He flashes a smile, like he doesn’t care. Maybe he doesn’t. Louis has no idea what’s going on. “Come have another shot later, if you want. I’ll be around.” 

“Yeah,” Louis says. “Right. I will. Enjoy, man.” 

Niall waffles for another second, like maybe he’s going to reach out for Louis or say something else. Then he turns and leaves. The noise of the bar outside rolls in like a wave as the door opens, and then it recedes, leaving Louis alone in the quiet with shaking hands and all this heat under his skin and no clue what to do with it. 

He doesn’t see Niall again before he leaves – there are more people at the party by the end than in the beginning, somehow, and Louis has to be up early. He slips out with his hair down over his forehead, concentrating on walking and not looking at any of the cameras. His thighs are aching with so much standing and drinking and half-dancing and the memory of Niall against him while Louis sucked on his tongue. 

He goes home to his empty house, and he’s finishing making a cup of tea – barefoot, his jeans exchanged for boxers with his black and white jumper still on – when he gets Niall’s text. 

_Whered you go???_ Then a few emoji, some sad and relevant-seeming, others probably picked at random from Niall’s recently used ones. A palm tree, a toilet, a policeman. 

_Home mate ! Glasgow tomorw_ His fingers are slow, and he can’t be bothered to type properly. _Couldnt find you t say bye. you still there ?_

_yea but leavin soon_

He’s expecting more, for some reason, but apparently that’s all Niall has to say. 

It’s just as he’s settled into bed that the knock on the front door comes, filtering up from far away and cutting into the silence in Louis’ room. He startles, eyelids heavy as he sits up. He’s full of that drunk disconnect that comes at the end of a weird, all-too eventful night, where your brain’s decided for you that you’ll just deal with it all in the morning. 

Louis groans and gets up again, taking his tea with him. If it’s a fucking fan, he thinks, he’s moving to Antarctica. 

But it’s not, when he looks through the peephole. It’s Niall, alone, looking rueful, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

“Hi,” Louis says when he’s got the door unlocked and opened. “You okay, mate?”

“Yeah,” Niall says. His eyes are intent on Louis’ face again, like they had been back in the bathroom. “I got dropped off.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Louis licks his lips. “Wanna come in, then?”

And there’s the Niall smile he knows and loves. “Yeah,” Niall says again, and follows him into the house. 

The kettle heats back up in less than a minute, and he pours Niall a cup of tea – lemon and ginger, from his personal reserves. They sit at the kitchen table blowing steam off the tops of their mugs, not saying anything. Louis doesn’t want to make small talk; they’re past that, at this point in the night. But he doesn’t know what else to say or do, either. 

Finally Niall pushes his mug aside. “Louis,” he says, quick, like he doesn’t want to lose his nerve, “could I kiss you again?”

Louis looks at his eyes, his mouth, his fingers spread over the knees of his jeans. “Yeah,” he says. His voice comes out cracking quiet. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” Niall says. He scoots his chair forward with a noise that sears through the silence in the room, puts his hand on Louis’ knee and leans in. There’s too much distance between them for it to be much beyond a press of lips together, and then a bit more than that. But the feel of it is heavier now than it was at the party, full of potential, anticipation. Niall came here for this. Niall wants it. Wants whatever comes after. Louis shudders, reaches blindly for Niall’s hand between them as he kisses him with his jaw tipped forward, then pulls back.

“Come upstairs,” he whispers. 

Niall nods. He keeps hold of Louis’ hand as he follows him to his bedroom, two cups of tea forgotten on the table. 

The soft click of the door closing behind Niall sends a thrill through Louis. The deliberate way they’re doing this without talking about it is making his heart pound like it’ll never stop pounding, and he turns to see Niall in his space, still an uncertain but determined little presence, meeting Louis’ eyes. 

“Are you sure about this?” Louis whispers, not yet knowing what _this_ will even be. He doesn’t want Niall to do anything he’ll regret. They’re both drunk, though, and Louis wants this more than he knew he could, wants it like it’s in his blood. 

“I really am,” Niall says, eyes traveling down Louis’ body, over his chest and hips in his clothes to his bare legs. “If you are.” 

Louis nods, then says, “Yeah,” when he realizes Niall’s still staring down at the place where his dick is pushing at the front of his boxers, just a little. He swallows. “Niall,” he whispers. 

Niall looks up, then slides his hands around Louis’ waist and pushes him gently until Louis sits heavily on the edge of the bed. “Really want to suck you off,” Niall says quietly, and he goes to his knees in front of Louis in a way he must have practiced in fucking physical therapy, for it to be so quick.

“God,” Louis breathes. “Yeah.” 

“I wanted to all night.” Niall slides his hands up Louis’ thighs under his boxers, touching his hot skin. “I wanted to in the bathroom.”

“Niall.” Louis’ starting to feel a bit of urgency, his dick twitching every time Niall speaks, with every slow second that this is still happening. He lifts his bum and slips his boxers off, down over his knees. His cock is bobbing half-hard in between them. Niall’s looking at it with his drunk, lidded eyes and his lips parted, and he’s making Louis crazy taking this so slow. “Niall,” he repeats, on a bit of a whine. 

Niall looks up, and with a hot shock Louis realizes he’s waiting to be told. 

“Suck me off,” Louis whispers. 

Niall surges forward and licks the head of Louis’ dick with no further preamble. It makes Louis gasp, how eager he is, like he’s done this loads of times. Maybe he has. The thought of Niall sucking anyone else’s dick makes Louis’ mouth go dry. He scoots forward a little, spreading his legs and letting Niall settle in between them.

Niall spits in his palm and wraps his hand around the base of Louis’ cock so he can tug his foreskin back and slide down lower, hollowing his cheeks to suck at the head, take him in further. Louis curls a hand into Niall’s hair, rubbing his thumb over the shell of his ear. The sight of Niall between his legs like this is so bizarre, like a highly colored dream. Louis is hot everywhere, biting back little gasps as Niall sucks him with his mouth going wet and sloppy. He pulls back, leaving Louis’ dick shining with spit, and licks a stripe up the underside, tonguing at the vein before sliding his lips down again. 

Niall’s moaning a little in the back of his throat, eyebrows knit and eyes shut. His free hand is curled against Louis’ thigh, blunt nails digging in, and he bobs his head up and down, crowding close to Louis like he wants to crawl inside him when he’s done. Louis’ hand tightens in his hair, his free hand clutching at his bedspread as Niall takes him deeper, so slow, making little noises through his nose. 

“Niall,” Louis whimpers, when the tip of Niall’s nose is brushing the curls at the base of Louis’ dick. Niall swallows around him, giving a muffled little moan in answer. The head of Louis’ cock bumps the back of Niall’s throat, and he swears, quietly. His thighs are starting to shake. 

Niall’s jaw is slack and he pulls back, tongue curling around Louis’ cock for a moment, sucking hard, before he slides back down and swallows again. He’s shaking, too, and the noises he makes as he tries to take Louis as deep as he can are obscene – wet, almost choking sounds, and Louis can’t do anything but hold him tighter by the hair, trying not to push his hips too sharply up into Niall’s mouth. 

Niall slides a hand under his balls, drawn up tight between his legs, and sucks harder, really moaning now, desperate little sounds pushing out the roof of his mouth past Louis’ dick. It’s so hot to think he gets off on this – that he came here wanting this, had thought about it, maybe before tonight. Louis’ head is spinning, and he realizes too late that he’s about to come.

“Fuck, Niall—” he gets out by way of warning, and his hips buck up and he comes straight down Niall’s throat, in three long jerks. It’s drawn out by the way Niall swallows around him, takes it all without a shred of protest.

Louis shivers when it’s over and his softening cock’s still in Niall’s mouth. “Babe,” he whispers, touching Niall’s cheek. Niall pulls back. He’s wrecked, his lips red and shining, cheeks a blotchy mess. He looks up at Louis with his mouth open. Louis just came in that mouth. Niall’s fingers are tight on his thighs. 

“Take your jeans off,” Louis says, mindlessly. He stares as Niall stands and scrambles out of his skinnies. “And those,” he says, pointing, and Niall shucks his boxers, too. He’s really hard, his cock slim and pink and pretty, curving up toward his belly. Louis stares for a second before reaching out for him.

“C’mere,” he says, and Niall almost falls into his lap, climbing onto the bed and straddling him. His surgery scar looks angry. Louis is so scared of hurting him. 

“Is your knee okay?” he asks, touching Niall’s soft bare waist at the hem of his sweater. He slides his hands under it, rucking it up until Niall takes the hint and pulls it off all the way, dropping it on the floor. 

He’s naked in Louis’ lap, and he says, “Yeah,” touches the side of Louis’ neck in one place and then another, like he’s marking spots he wants to kiss later. He leans forward a little and the head of his cock drags across Louis’ sweater, leaves a shining wet smear on the deep black. “Maybe – we could lie down,” he says, breathless. 

“Yeah,” Louis says. Niall clambers off him, whole body strung tight and trembling. He makes it to the top of the mattress and lies down in the space where the sheets are already pulled aside. 

Louis pulls off his sweater before he moves back into Niall’s space. He slips between Niall’s legs, spread at a random, drunk angle, slides his hands up his body and kisses him. His cock is mostly soft, snugged up against Niall’s hip, and it’s weird to feel Niall, hard, against him. Louis is going to have to get him off and he’s only got wild half-ideas of how he wants to do it. He rolls his hips forward and it makes Niall shudder. 

“Go on,” Louis murmurs, slipping one arm around Niall’s shoulders so he can slide his hand into his hair, the other hand beneath his lower back. He pulls Niall up beneath him and pushes his hips forward again, into Niall’s dick. Niall moans, helpless, clutching around Louis’ shoulders. 

“There’s so much—” he starts to say, then gasps as Louis ruts against him again, starting to find a rhythm, letting Niall fuck against his hip. Niall breathes out, shaky, then goes on, “so much I wanna do with you,” he says, face buried in Louis’ neck.

“Tell me,” Louis says. He reaches between them and curls his hand around the slick head of Niall’s cock, drags down, starts to wank him off. Niall moans again. 

“Wanna lick you out,” Niall says. “And – and ride you, and, fuck – want you to fuck me, wanna feel you come while you’re in me.”

“Oh, my god,” Louis breathes. He’s so turned on again, his cock just starting to get a little hard against Niall’s thigh. He draws back. “D’you want my fingers?”

Niall’s answering nod is frantic and desperate. Louis reaches over and roots around in the bedside cabinet until he finds a small, forgotten bottle of lube. He squirts some onto his fingers, rubs it about, then pushes Niall’s hips apart. 

“Here,” Niall says. He’s offering Louis a pillow, and Louis slips it under him, kneels over him and leans close while he circles his rim with one slick finger. 

“Like this,” he breathes, lips at the corner of Niall’s mouth. He pushes a finger into him, slow, trying not to tremble. Niall kisses him like it’s the only thing he knows how to do, gasps into his mouth while Louis slides his finger in deeper and then back out, then adds the second one, feeling Niall clench around him. 

“Easy, there,” he breathes, touching Niall’s hip with his free hand, steadying him. “Relax for me. That’s it.” He fucks his fingers in deeper and Niall bears down on them, huffing out a breath, and then, as Louis’ fingertips flutter against his prostate, a loud, broken moan that feels as though it splits the room in two. Louis does it again just for the way Niall shakes hard under him, the way he’s falling completely apart. Louis thinks back to kissing him in the bathroom at the birthday party, how he’d realized then how desperate he was for this, all in a flash, how Niall had looked at him like Louis was the only thing he’d ever wanted.

He pulls his fingers out, leaving Niall panting under him, and squeezes out some more lube. Niall takes the first two fingers easily, clutching tight in the hair at the nape of Louis’ neck. He keeps looking at him and then tipping his head back with his eyes closed like it’s too much. 

“Can I do one more?” Louis asks him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall says, “feels so good, Louis.” 

Louis pushes in a third finger, slow, opening Niall up. Niall’s ruined by now, twisting down on Louis’ hand. There are tears at the corner of his eyes.

“Tell me you’re okay,” Louis whispers into his shoulder, biting gently at the muscle, fucking him slow and steady. 

“I’m good,” Niall says. “Don’t fucking stop. Oh, god.” 

Louis is hard again, which is saying something considering how drunk he was when they started this. He feels sort of sobered now, his whole world shrunk down to just Niall, one burning point. 

“I could fuck you, I think,” he says shakily. “If you think – if you want.”

“Oh my god,” Niall says, and he nods, shifting his shoulders against the sheets so he can look at Louis. “I can’t fucking believe this,” he whispers.

“Happy early birthday,” Louis says, soft. For a moment it’s too real, the nearness of Niall, the feel of him, the way he’s gazing up at Louis. It’s _Niall_ , insistently so – real-life Niall, who will still be Louis’ bandmate in the morning, whom he’s been dancing around without realizing it for months now. 

“Don’t need a condom,” Niall says, “if you don’t care.”

Louis swallows. “Yeah,” he says, “do you think you’re ready?” He pushes his fingers a little deeper in, until Niall swears, tossing his head. 

“Do it,” he gasps, “I’m so fucking close, Louis, just – you can fuck me. Please.” 

Louis spreads a little more lube down his dick, jerks himself for a few seconds with a slick palm, eyes slipping shut. Niall hooks his dodgy knee around Louis’ waist, hips ticking up.

The moment where their eyes meet, right before Louis pushes into him, is the most heart-stopping thing Louis thinks he’s ever felt. It’s so _serious_ , considering they’re both drunk and this is _Niall_ of all people, and yet it’s anything but random, and Louis has no idea what he’s fucking doing. 

Then he’s inside him, and it gets easier. Louis concentrates on the feeling of it, the way Niall’s back arches, how he spreads his hands on the mattress on either side of their bodies and digs his fingers in like otherwise he’ll float away.

Louis pushes all the way into him, first, until his hips are flush with Niall’s arse, and then he takes hold of his hip with one hand and the top of the headboard with the other and starts up a rhythm, hair falling over his sweaty forehead. Niall’s almost gone again under him, his cock hitting his belly with a wet sound when Louis pushes in hard.

“Can you come like this?” Louis asks. “D’you want my hand?”

Niall makes a sound that’s somewhere between a ‘yes’ and a sob, and Louis wraps a hand around him and starts to jack him off. Niall’s legs are tight around his waist, and Louis feels like he’s on fire, on his way to coming again, the build of it a far-off burn in his nerves. Niall’s huffing out these helpless little sounds every time Louis thrusts again, rocking back with the force of it, one hand clutching at the peak of Louis’ shoulder now.

Finally Louis sinks in deep and stays there and pulls Niall off like he means it, kisses the hollow of his throat, scrapes his teeth along Niall’s jaw, and then kisses his mouth, claims it slow and dirty. He breathes out, “Now, Niall,” and Niall comes like all Louis had needed to do was tell him. 

It’s a beautiful thing, how the line of his thin body stretches out long, how he arches up underneath Louis, crying out, clenching and clenching around Louis’ cock while he comes in ropes up his stomach and onto Louis’ chest. Louis stays buried in him, swearing into Niall’s neck, and he only needs four or five more good thrusts before he’s coming, too. The feeling of it sears white like heat behind his eyes. 

He pants against Niall for a long time after. Niall’s boneless under him, his breath slowing down in long whines. 

“Jesus,” he says finally. “Louis.”

“Fuck, man,” Louis whispers. He slips out of Niall slowly. There’s a trickle of come when he does it, and Niall squirms. 

“That was,” Niall tries, his eyes bloodshot and glassy as he looks at Louis’ face. “Intense,” he says after a while. 

Louis nods, settling back between Niall’s legs. Everything’s warm and aching and heavy. In the morning he’s going to feel like he’s on strings that have all been pulled the wrong way. 

“You’ve got an early start tomorrow, don’t you,” Niall asks quietly. He looks like he’s about to apologize. Louis heads him off.

“It’s no trouble, Niall,” he says. He gets up and wets a towel in the bathroom, wipes himself down and brings it back for Niall to do the same. Niall sits up against the headboard, thighs pressed together. “You should stay,” he says. “There’s a spare key by the front door. Just – y’know, do your thing. Leave whenever. Don’t leave, for all I care.”

Niall smiles. “We’ve got shows to get back to.”

“True.” Louis sighs. “But you can have a lie-in, if you like. No charge.” Niall laughs a little, all the energy drained out of him.

Louuis finds his boxers on the floor and pulls them back on, slipping under the sheets. His phone is charging on the other side of the mattress, and he checks his alarm. His mum’s coming to get him in the morning, and he wants to get up early enough to meet her when she does.

“Hit that light,” he tells Niall, pointing. Niall doesn’t bother putting any clothes back on before he shuts off the lamp and settles in under the covers, too. He’s not touching Louis at all, but he looks at him, his eyes two little gleams in the dark.

There’s a moment of quiet, wakeful breathing on odd rhythms, and then Niall asks, “Should we talk about this?” a bit reluctantly. 

Louis bites his lip. He can’t talk about how right this felt, how whenever he looks at Niall now he’s going to want to touch him. He can’t talk about how he’d gotten him alone in the bathroom at the party rather than hugging him out in the open because he’d been thinking, deep down, of exactly this. He can’t, in his current state, put words to the way Niall makes him feel. 

“Maybe not yet,” he murmurs. “Maybe – maybe tomorrow, or – when we’re sober.”

Niall nods, hair rustling against the pillow. “I had fun,” he says, a bit lamely. It doesn’t do it justice and they both know it. Louis curls closer to him.

“Me too,” he whispers, and he kisses Niall on the corner of his mouth. Niall shuts his eyes. 

“Yeah,” he mutters, into the space between Louis’ cheek and the mattress. Their hands brush as they settle closer together, and Louis laces their fingers, driven by some lack of inhibitions. He wants to hold Niall’s hand, is all. He always wants to, and right now, he gets to. He’s hoping they can work the rest out later.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr @ [1dgaf](http://1dgaf.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
